A Shot of Faith
by Otaku of the Century
Summary: My name is Faith and I'm currently the most wanted person in the world of mafia. Don't ask me, I know as much as you do. If I knew that getting the groceries would throw me into a world filled with guns, insanity, and a certain hit man-in-training, I would've just stayed home. Teen!Reborn/OC


Hi! Otaku-sama here!

So this is my second KHR fic and I'm writing this for a friend of mine, killerpuppy. The OC is also hers so I hope that you all will like her as I do!

(DISCLSIMER: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or it's characters. Faith belongs to killerpuppy.)

I hope that you like this!

Now READ!

* * *

A Shot of Faith

Chapter 1: Letter for Mom

It only takes a moment for a life to begin, change, or end.

I always thought that a life begins the moment a squealing baby slides out of its Momma's belly and sees the light for the first time of its life.

I always thought that a life ends when a person's heart stops and when their lungs are empty.

With those two, I was only partially correct. Just not in the way that I expected.

Change I mentioned before is unavoidable and it's not always expected. It can walk right in front of you as clear as day or sneak up from behind and scare the seven hells out of you like the mean jerk it is.

For me, that change was expected. Right in front of me, even. Was I able to avoid it? Well, not exactly. It's that type of change that comes right in front of your face but it's barreling at you so fast that you can't avoid it.

Like a bullet

* * *

So the story begins with an empty refrigerator and a ten-year-old letter

"FAITH! GET DOWN HER'E!"

And a very drunk, very upset man

"FAITH! DON'T YE DARE IGNORE YUR OWN FATHER!"

Who happens to be my father

"I'm coming down, I'm coming down." I whispered over and over to myself while trying to untangle myself from my bed sheets and make my way downstairs at the same time. "Please don't be angry, please don't be angry."

I have no grace, unfortunately.

On the third step, I slipped on a corner of the bed sheets I was tangled in and plummeted down the stairs and landed painfully on my face. "…Ouch."

"FAITH!"

"I'm down here, Father." I groaned out. "Do you mind getting your foot off of my back? It's getting a little painful."

He pressed his foot down harder and made it very clear to me that he was** not **going to get his foot off my back just because I asked him to. "Is there anything you need?"

"The refrigerator is empty. Where is my beer? I clearly remember that I had six. What did ye do with them, lass?" My father demanded with a thick Irish accent. That accent always came out when he was drunk. He used to have a smooth, American accent back in the days he was happy and sober. I mentally shook my head at my father's forgetfulness. He and his friends came over last night and emptied everything from the fridge, including the beer. Father shook me, "Well?"

I held back a sigh, knowing that it would only make him angrier than he was at the moment. "You had friends over last night and you drank it all."

"LIAR!" He roared and threw me against the wall. "Ye threw them away when I wasn't looking, didn't ye?"

Ouch. I think I heard something crack when I made contact against the wall.

I forced myself to stay still and hope that my father would leave once he thinks that I was knocked out from the impact.

Just as I thought he would, my father grumbled about my weakness and rumbled away. I stayed still for an extra five minutes to make sure he left.

I sighed and got back onto my feet shakily.

I made my way past my father's room where the T.V. was on. My father probably went out to I sighed in relief when I made it to the kitchen. I checked the fridge (which was actually empty) and realized how trashed the place was.

Crumbs, stains, and the smell of booze didn't exactly fulfill the definition of cleanliness.

I sighed and held up a wet mop in one hand and a broomstick in the other.

"Time to clean…"

I started with the couches. Getting every single crumb and stain off of the furniture was a bit tricky, but I managed after time and patience.

Then, I cleaned the floor. It was the other chore that I needed to get done before Dad got up. If I was still there, he'd beat the crap out of me and that would mean the grocery duty would have to be moved to tomorrow.

I wrinkled my nose. Today is Sunday. Buying grocery on a school day would be a pain since those days were usually jam-packed with homework.

While I was mopping the beer-covered floor, I slipped.

Oh no, I didn't just _slip._

I slipped on the part of the floor that _wasn't even wet_.

"Hiiiiii!"

My forehead crashed into the fridge, causing a box filled with letters to crash onto my head. After that, I gracefully fell into an ungodly head of limbs and clothes.

Yeah…I know. The floor just loves me. We're pretty good friends, in a matter of fact.

I groaned and rubbed my forehead. That was _definitely_ going to bruise.

I groaned even more when I realized that all the letters were scattered all over the _wet_ ground. I gingerly began picking them up and depositing them back into the cardboard box.

There was one letter that caught my eye, though.

Maybe it might have been the fact that the envelope looked nice and pretty.

Maybe it was because the symbol stamped on the top left corner looked like something that might inspire my next painting.

Or…maybe it was because Mom's name was printed there in nice, gold letters.

Whatever the reason was, it was enough to make me grab it and shove it into my pocket before proceeding on my quest on cleaning the house.

* * *

Wait, pause the story for a minute.

I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Faith, Faith Keane. I'm sixteen years old, soon to be seventeen. I have red, frizzy hair and faint freckles on my cheeks. My eyes were chocolate brown and, if looked a bit closer, you might see some features that I received from the Asian side of my family.

I'm a 50% Irish and 50% Japanese but I was born in America, the salad bowl of cultures. Not that I'm distant with my native countries. I used visit Ireland and Japan every other year to visit my grandparents until they all passed away (in different times and for different reasons, of course).

Now, I just hang out in Rhode Island, trying to do my best to get into a good enough college so I can have an at least okay life.

My mother passed away seven years ago in a car accident so it's just my dad and me.

Back when Mom was alive, everything was great. Looking back, I think I took that happiness for granted.

I had a normal father who could play a jolly tune with the bagpipes.

I had a beautiful, kind mother who could cook the best food and tell the best stories about her younger days.

And I also had the cutest baby brother named Roy. He was only two and he didn't deserve to die like he did.

Yup, that car crash took away lots of things.

Let's scratch that last statement about it being only me and my dad.

It's just me.

I had no one else.

* * *

"Okay…eggs? Check. Butter? Check. Milk? Check. Bread, ham, chicken, and pudding? Check, check, and double check."

I looked down the list to make sure that I got everything. No need to run back to the grocery store again because I forgot one little thing.

"Hmm, I'm not sure if the cookies are necessary but-oof." I bumped into someone and stumbled back onto my butt. "Um…sorry about that."

The person I bumped into was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper colored hair. His face already had signs of wrinkles but his eyes held a sort of strength that I couldn't help but admire.

"No it was my fault, my dear child. Are you unhurt?" The man asked kindly. His English was flawless so I would've thought he was an American if it wasn't for the hint of an accent his words held. My dad used to talk like that, fluent with a sprinkle of Irish.

I quickly got onto my feet. "I'm as fine as a whistle! Oh, and it was my fault that I bumped into you. I'm just careless like that. Sorry, sir!"

"Wait Miss, I think you dropped something."

The man knelt down and picked something up. I saw my mother's letter in his hand and began spewing out words of gratitude.

I didn't notice the man's hesitation when he saw the symbol on the envelope.

I didn't notice the look of suspicion as I took the letter.

"Miss Takara? It was no problem. I merely picked the letter up. It must be important to you." The man said casually.

I shook my head. "My name is Faith. Takara was my mother's name."

Surprise flitted across the man's eyes. "Ah, I see."

I nodded to the man. "Thanks again!" And turned to leave the store so I can fill the fridge back up to its former glory before Dad woke up. A young man, probably close to my age if not older, brushed pass me. I couldn't see his face but the feature of his that struck me the most was his uniquely curly sideburns. He had a nice-looking fedora on too. Now hats that weren't baseball caps wasn't common around here so it was a bit refreshing to see something new.

I turned my head and grinned. "Nice hat, dude. Oh, and I like the curly sideburns. They're cute."

I think I surprised the guy because he paused at mid-stride.

I shrugged at the guy's strange actions and walked out of the store. There's a fridge that I need to refill.

* * *

Visiting Mom and Roy's grave was an everyday thing. After I dropped the grocery off, I made a beeline to the graveyard.

I never got why people were afraid of the graveyard. It was my place of comfort. All my loved ones were buried here so what was there to fear? Their spirits were probably there to protect us, not to haunt us.

With a handful of daises that I managed to grab on my way here, I regained my breath and walked up to Mom's grave. "Hi _Oka-san_."

"Sorry that I couldn't visit you this past week. I painted a nice picture of our backyard and I finished the painting of the sea three days ago."

"I managed to get a 98% on my AP Biology Test. I completely botched my Math test, though. You know how I am with Math. My English teacher praised me because I wrote a good essay."

"I messed up on the Soccer game this Friday. I tripped and lost the ball."

I laughed. "Everyone was so upset with me."

"Today, I met a kind man but I bumped into him. It's a good thing, right? Meeting a kind person is truly a good omen like you used to say."

I scratched the back of my neck before muttering:

"Dad got angry again."

I paused. "You know, he misses you and Roy a lot so don't get angry at him. He's going to act better so don't worry about it."

"I think I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be a great artist someday."

I turned to walk away before snapping my fingers. "Ah! I almost forgot!" I pulled out the letter. "Here's a letter that was supposed to be for you. It came to you ten years too late but…I guess it's better than not getting it at all, right?"

I made a move to place it on the ground in front of her tombstone but the sound of a gun clicking met my ears. My blood ran cold and something in my brain just shut down.

After mustering enough courage, I slowly looked up to see the young man from before.

He was pointing a gun at me.

His golden eyes met mine from underneath his fedora hat. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Chaos."

* * *

...Yeah.

So Faith pretty much has a bad day. Hopefully she doesn't die on the next chapter. (JK of course I wouldn't kill off the main character on the first chapter. It's against the rules!)

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

Otaku-sama out!


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